


Keep your kinks away from me

by DefendersofMCUniverse (GeekMom13)



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bitter Millennial Peter, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Humor, Did I mention dark humor?, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, M/M, Marking, Mild D/s vibes, Mild Praise Kink, This Sparks Joy, team fuck canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekMom13/pseuds/DefendersofMCUniverse
Summary: Peter had a habit to destress- baking. Which was normal, mostly.Unfortunately, his most stressful times were after patrols... which meant very early in the morning.Wade was not a big fan of being kept up by the delicious smells from the stupid college student in the apartment below him, so he shows up with a fork one night.





	Keep your kinks away from me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpiderKatana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderKatana/gifts).

> Much thanks to CuteAsAMuntin and Vixen13 for helping me work on constantly improving my writing.
> 
> And a huge thank you to SpiderKatana for the wonderful prompt that you let me borrow.

Wade was really getting tired of this. This whole up _all night baking _shit his neighbor loved was a lot easier to cope with when he was allowed to unalive people. Or fuck people. But his newest crush managed to fuck both those things up.

_ No, _ Wade chastised himself, _ you can not blame Spidey for your weird fratboy neighbor baking every fucking night._

Wade took a deep breath- bad choice, now he could almost _taste _the food. The food he definitely was not allowed to actually taste.

One of the perks of living in this shitty of a building was _supposed _to be none of this! 

No happy little homemakers on college row. 

Until about two months ago.

Terrible fake porn moans- which were actually _helpful _not a form of torture- yes… fancy gourmet smells, no. He expects ramen and hot dogs from his neighbors. Maybe the occasional smell of pot to drown out the distinct smell of 'your mother obviously did not teach you that laundry was a necessity and not a suggestion'.

Wade did his best to bury his face to avoid the smell long enough to fall asleep- or die for a bit. That would work, too. 

When he woke up the next morning, he felt like shit. Continuously suffocating wasn’t exactly the best way to get restful sleep. 

* * *

Peter was really not sure _why _he first felt the need to bake every time he got home from patrol. But it was just tradition now, and with all the changes since leaving May’s place, there was a comfort in it. Unfortunately, leaving his Aunt’s also meant leaving Uncle Ben’s recipes behind. 

Which was _fine. _

It really was. 

He didn’t hate the fact that internet recipes left _important shit out, _ not at all. 

Like… how was _he _supposed to know that _any pepper you prefer _did not include cayenne? And really, people needed to be more clear about capitalizing their T’s. Because 3 _tablespoons _instead of 3 _teaspoons _made for some gross dough- that rises way too fast.

He had left a nicely worded comment on that blog about how 3T and 3t were very much _not _interchangeable. It had ruined all his sandwiches for a _ week. _

Then there was the "cookie recipe" that decided not to double-check- which is when Peter realized that maybe _raw sugar_ and _whole sugar_ weren't the same- no, _whole sugar_ was supposed to read _whole flour_ which was already enough of a typo... It was a mess, and he deeply missed that destroyed pan. It was his best jelly roll pan. 

Peter was currently trying to follow a “simple” recipe for banana bread. 

As if you could classify this nonsense as simple. 

Who the fuck thinks that freezing, then roasting, then refreezing the bananas is a _ simple _recipe? No, if it takes more than a few hours, it’s reached complicated. And if it takes _three fucking days of planning and effort, _ it’s well into unnecessarily complicated, _ Sarah._

He was definitely _not _leaving a positive comment on _this _banana bread. 

Because _fuck Sarah, “The Simple Chef,” _ that’s why. 

At least Peter had learned to have plenty of extra shit around to try multiple times. Really, the internet was fucking useless for recipes a good ninety percent of the time. Baking was supposed to _relieve _his stress, not add to it. 

The timer dinged, and he took out the _fourth _attempt tonight, and it was terrible. Really. Inedible and needed to be tossed to the raccoons and rats who _probably wouldn’t die _from it. 

He was about to toss it out when he heard a knock at the door. 

When he opened the door, he probably should have reacted more to a (still bloody) Deadpool holding a fork, especially since Deadpool _did not know his identity._

But it was the _fourth _fuck-up of the night after a particularly frustrating patrol where the police decided to shoot Deadpool for his previous crimes. Or something. He really didn’t listen as he was busy getting them _away _from the trigger-happy new officer. 

And so, maybe Peter wasn’t thinking about the fact that perhaps the average college student would: _ A) _ not grab _ Deadpool _by the hole in his uniform, _ B) _ most likely flinch at the blood if they initially missed seeing it, and _C) _probably just not want _freaking Deadpool _around… at all. Because, you know, murderer or whatever.

Instead, Peter had dragged a well-known mercenary with _a lot _of blood on his hands- metaphorically and, currently, physically- into his apartment. He’d deal with the still-sticky blood getting on his shit later. Right now, though?

“You can’t die from this, so taste it, and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Wade just stared at him, still holding the fork up.

“Okay, fine, you can’t die _forever _from this. Now eat.” 

Wade glanced down at himself and looked up, tilting his head. “Are- are you okay, man?”

“I’ll be better if you would just _ try the fucking bread.” _

Wade held up his hands and pulled up his mask while reaching for the pan. He took a bite and cringed. “Bread… should not be slimy.”

Peter grumbled and walked over to the window, throwing the entire pan out to the alley below. He didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before slamming the window and heading over to the oven. It was probably the angriest three steps Wade had ever seen. 

Peter was busy swearing at his bowls of goop, so Wade looked at the recipe. 

“Where’s the flour?” 

Peter glared. “There’s no flour in the list.” 

“True,” Wade pointed to the prep list on the page before scrolling to the instructions, “but there _ is _flour down here.” 

Peter leaned in and read the line about slowly incorporating the one and three-quarter cup of ridiculously named flour that he was _not _going to use because normal-ass bread flour would work just fine. “Fuck Sarah.” 

“I would... but my heart is taken by my baby boy.” 

“I take it back, fuck _ you.” _

Wade gasped dramatically. “You would besmirch my innocence?” 

Peter snorted. “You have none of that left.” 

“You don’t even _ know me!” _

“Pretty sure _ everyone _ knows you.”

Wade thought about it but nodded. “Well, I don’t know _you. _So, the point stands.”

Peter thought over the past few minutes and realized he had yanked_ Deadpool _into his apartment, in his full weapons-included uniform, and didn’t bother to introduce himself. _ Fucking great move. _ “I’m Peter.”

“Hi, Peter! Add the flour, and it _ should _ work.” 

Peter glared at the laptop before adding the flour and slamming a new bread pan on the counter to fill. “This is going to take some time, and honestly, I would prefer not to clean up more blood tonight.” 

“O-kay,” Wade nodded and went to head back to his apartment, “I’ll just be back in an hour.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just wash off in there and borrow a fucking shirt. I don’t feel like getting the door for you again,” Peter flopped onto the couch and took out his phone. “Plus it’s not like we don’t all know what you look like anyway, and that costume is definitely not comfortable.” 

“Maybe I _ like _ the whole restrictive leather thing.” 

“Keep your kinks _ away _ from me.” 

“But my kinks _like you. _They wanna come out and play.” 

Peter briefly considered throwing his phone at Wade’s head. But that would require effort, and maybe break the phone. And Wade _did _get shot earlier tonight, so perhaps it was only nice not to hurt him more- weird regeneration or not. “Don’t forget to borrow pants, too.” 

“No worries, only my baby boy get to see Mini-pool.”

Peter really reconsidered his stance on throwing phones- but he probably couldn’t afford the money to replace it. And despite the rumors, he absolutely _did not have a sugar daddy._

“Not that it’s _mini. _ I assure you I’m-”

“Nope. _ No. _ You will not finish that statement.”

Wade shrugged and pulled off the rest of his mask to wink before heading into Peter’s bathroom.

* * *

Wade emerged in a slightly-too-small outfit of Peter’s- well, what he could get on at least, the pants did not work- ready to talk to the other man, only to find him curled up on the couch and snoring. 

He snapped a picture and sent it to Spidey.

_ Miss me, Baby Boy? I’m helping a poor damsel in distress tonight. _

The phone on the floor vibrated, and Wade tossed it onto the coffee table and went to check the bread. It definitely looked less slimy this time, and smelled even better than the last batch that smelled like candied bananas.

Wade snapped another photo.

_ The damsel’s buns. _

Well, bun, but whatever.

Wade vaguely registered another sound from the living room. He grabbed the computer and hoped Peter didn’t mind him watching movies, and if by “movies,” he meant My Little Pony, well, no one had to know.

He was halfway through Pinkie Pie trying to watch the Cake twins when the bread finished up, and, honestly, if it wasn’t for Peter still snoring as he slept off whatever made him so upset earlier, he might have let it burn.

But Spidey would not approve of him letting the poor kid’s bread burn for some cartoons, so he got up. He was pretty sure the twins would be fine. 

The bread _seemed _okay, so he put it off to the side- where three other pans sat cold. It seemed like Peter had a rough night, and he didn’t even get shot at!

He snapped another photo.

_ Not included is the slimy one I got to try. Poor damsel decided to chuck it out the window._

He noticed the phone buzz _again. _ And honestly, rude. He was trying to keep Peter _asleep, _and that damn thing kept buzzing.

He texted Spidey again, this time an awkward selfie of him in the _very tight _clothes from Peter. He considered finding a mirror to get his butt in the photo, but sent it off before hunting down a good mirror. 

Peter’s phone buzzed, and Wade was able to see the preview from a contact with the unfortunate name of _ Hemorrhoid. _ He narrowed his eyes at this person and cradled the phone in a discarded shirt, settling in to text Spidey again. 

_ Hey Baby Boy, I’m bored. Typically you’re still up now. Got a hot date? _

_ Nah, cause you haven’t said yes yet. _

And the muffled buzzing continued. 

_ Anyway. Thanks for the rescue tonight, I’m all regenerated. Like new. _

_ But you could still come to kiss it better. _

The phone was really starting to annoy him.

_ I’ve cleaned up the blood. I know you hate the whole bloody kisses idea. _

_ But I think you’d like it if you gave it a shot. _

_ Knives are pretty fun, Baby Boy. _

He growled at the phone that was _still _trying to vibrate off the table. Jesus fuck, who is up at this hour texting Peter? 

Peter stretched out at the sound, scrunching up his face and letting out a little whine before rolling over and shoving his face into the back of the couch. Wade went back to texting Spidey until the bread cooled.

Because, yes, his tongue would recover, but it hurt like a bitch to deal with burns, and he was in no mood to suffer more tonight. And the bread didn’t need to be ruined. 

Peter had already done that. Four times.

The phone seemed completely set on vibrating off the shirt, and Wade decided to silence it finally. When he clicked the volume button, Hemorrhoid’s last message came through. 

_ Can’t wait to taste his buns. _

It was probably a coincidence. But just to be sure he texted Spidey again. And Peter’s phone lit up in his hands.

_ Bet they’re sweet. _

Jesus Fuck.

* * *

Peter was shaken awake by someone- who the fuck would wake him up? It was _Saturday. _ “Fuck off- I don’t have classes today.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Baby Boy. I think we have a few things we could learn today.”

He refused to pick up his head from the sofa. “Fuck off, Deadpool.” 

He heard a chuckle and then realized… he was very much _not _in his suit. And Wade only ever called _ Spidey _ Baby Boy. He looked up- and vaguely remembered dragging a still bloody Wade into his apartment last night in a baking panic. 

“Come on, Baby Boy. Don’t you wanna know what I already learned today?”

“I hate you.” 

“I doubt that. I have such a charming name in your phone. Tell me. Is it ‘cause I _ look _like a Hemorrhoid, or maybe because I feel like one? Nah. I never leave someone in _that _much pain. Maybe a little sore. I’m not bragging, but Mini-pool is-”

“OH MY GOD, _ STOP.” _Peter hid his entire face in the suffocating fabric and hoped for death.

Wade pet Peter’s head. “But teasing is always fun, Petey.” 

“I definitely hate you,” he muttered, voice muffled by the sofa.

“You can hate me later. We have bread to try. And _ then _ we have a talk.”

Peter groaned but rolled off the couch. 

“The floor is not where we eat bread, Petey.”

“Since when? I’m happy here. Leave me to die.” 

Wade leaned over, offering a hand. “Even _you _couldn’t die from that height before the bite. Don’t be dramatic.” 

“Deadpool is calling _me _dramatic. What universe are we in?” Peter allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“The one where you no longer have an excuse not to give me a date… or a pity fuck, at least.”

Peter groaned as he walked past and shoved at Wade- right in the shoulder that had been injured yesterday. He knew it wouldn’t even have an echo of pain, but he hoped the sentiment would be clear.

“Come on, look at me! I’m basically a walking testicle. I’m _ so perfect _ for pity fucks.” 

Peter slammed the loaf out of the pan and ripped off a chunk. “Just eat.” 

Wade sat at the table. “Note to self: Baby Boy is _ not a morning spider.” _

Peter started a pot for tea, trying to figure out how to deal with this. Almost no one knew who he was. And everyone was safer that way. 

“I mean, not that I mind, I can definitely avoid morning talky stuff. I swear, I will just drag you into the shower and let my mouth do other things-”

Peter needed caffeine about an hour ago. This was- well, about par for the course since he got bit. Why _would _life stop sucking suddenly just because he was pretending he could be a fully functioning adult?

“You will love the trick I do with my tongue, I _ swear.” _

Peter glared at him.

“Oh! That is _ so much more adorable _ without the mask!” 

“I hate you.” 

Wade laughed and took a bite of bread. “This doesn’t taste like sadness!”

Peter laughed at that. “So the one last night did?”

Wade cringed. “It… was slimy. And that alone makes it… sad bread.” 

“Fair,” Peter grabbed a mug and tossed in the tea bag, leaning against the sink, so he didn’t fall asleep at the table. “So no slime this time?”

“Nope. The flour helped, I think.” 

Peter once again considered injuring Wade, but tea was more important right now, and cleaning up blood- more blood- at four in the fucking morning did not sound appealing.

“I think we could pull off one of those slutty restaurants here. I’ll put chunks of the bread on my nipples-”

_ Tea is more important. _ Peter took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Or Mini-pool! Ooooo. We might need a bigger chunk for that though. Not exactly _ bite-sized cuisine, _if you know what I mean.”

“I am very willing to attempt the bite part if you don’t shut up.”

Relatively cowed, Wade shoved another chunk of bread in his mouth and watched as Peter downed his tea far too fast for the heat. By the time the second cup was done, Peter had looked awake, but Wade didn’t dare talk yet. 

“Okay,” Peter said. “What exactly do you plan to do now?”

“I was hoping we’d maybe fuck. Then date. If you don’t mind the whole…” Wade gestured vaguely at his own body, scarring obvious through the shirt he borrowed from Peter, “_ me _ part of the equation.” 

“I-”

“I mean, no matter what, I’m not going to tell anyone who you are. I don’t mind being a _ pity fuck, _ but I do kinda demand consent. Not like-” Wade dropped his head to the table, “I _ require _consent. I’d never make you if you didn’t want that.” 

Peter grimaced and rubbed at the rim of his empty mug. “I would never assume you did.”

“Well, at least I’m not completely hopeless then.” 

Peter laughed. “Pretty sure you weren’t hopeless from the time you stopped killing-”

“Unaliving.” 

_ “Killing _ people.” 

“That sounds so barbaric.” 

Peter glared at him. “Oh yes, I forgot, you are a paragon of sophisticated kindness.” 

Wade pretended to pout. “You wound me.” 

“I do that regularly.” 

Wade smirked. “That you do.” 

“Jesus fuck, you enjoy it, don’t you?” Peter wrinkled his nose.

Wade shrugged. “Don’t tell me you don’t. Had to be a pretty hard bite that one time when I could still see the hickey.” 

Peter turned red. “I hate you.” 

“But you still wanna date me.” 

“I have not said that,” Peter pointed at him, grabbing a chunk of bread, “I have very specifically not said that.” 

“Yet you have not denied it either. And if you weren’t at least considering it, you would. You turn down people _ all the time _ as Spidey.” Wade leaned back in his chair, triumphantly.

Peter shrugged. “They don’t know me; they just think it would be cool to date a hero.” 

“That, and your ass looks _ amazing _ in the spandex.” 

Peter threw a chunk of bread at him as he slipped into one of the chairs around the table. A lot less satisfying than the phone would have been, but the fake outrage on Deadpool’s face was unfortunately adorable. 

“So?”

Peter let out a sigh. “IF-”

“That’s not a no.” 

“It will be if you don’t shut up.” 

Wade took an alarmingly large bite of the offending hunk of bread.

“Now, as I was saying. _ If _we do this, no one knows you’re dating both Peter Parker _and _ Spider-Man. You pick one, and that’s it. No flirting with the other in public.” 

Wade nodded.

“And if you make too many dick jokes, I _ will _ gag you.” 

Wade wiggled his eyebrows (if you could call them eyebrows without the hair). 

“I will find a gag you _ hate _ and then gag you.”

“Good luck with that one.” 

Peter stared at his empty mug for a few seconds. “Is there _ anything _ that doesn’t turn you on?”

“Well- I’m guessing this isn’t a literal question- so… not much, really. Nothing you’d mention in polite company.”

Peter snorted. “I’d hardly call you _ polite company, _ shithead.” 

“I’m not sure I like that pet name. I’m nice and call you Baby Boy.”

Peter hummed. “I could go with a classic, like ‘buttercup?’”

Wade grimaced. “That sounds so weird from you.” 

“Then we’re agreed, shithead, dumbfuck, moron-” Peter cut himself off with a smile, “my ridiculous idiot.” 

Wade got up and leaned over the table. “I think it’s growing on me.” 

Peter snorted but leaned up to kiss him. 

Wade pulled back with a smile. “I take it the kissy-kissy means we will-” 

“I will send you home if you make that rhyme.” 

“Have sexual intercourse like two mature adults with no need to say sucky or fucky.” 

Peter groaned and let Wade pull him out of the chair and into the bedroom. He let his fingers settle on Wade’s hips briefly before he shoved Wade onto the bed, climbing onto his lap. 

Wade was letting his hands glide over all Peter’s clothes, gentle and steady. It reminded Peter of the way he would touch him occasionally after particularly hard or dangerous fights too, making sure nothing was hurt enough to need attention. There were only a few times Peter had needed help, but Wade was always diligent. 

Rarely, Peter had needed to help Wade, usually just digging bullets or shrapnel out before his flesh could regenerate around them. He hated when he had to do it after the healing kicked in. 

Peter slid his hands under the ridiculous shirt Wade had picked- a cheap souvenir shirt from Bong Recreational Park. Wade looked away as Peter ran his hands up and down Wade’s torso. 

“I know, it’s not pretty.”

“I already knew that, Wade. You have made it a mission to be naked around Spider-Man for the past few months. All this… I’ve seen.” 

Wade nodded, but tugged at Peter’s shirt, wanting to see what he normally kept covered. Where he had been eager to show off and keep Spidey’s attention on him, Peter was reserved and only ever took off what was necessary to help healing.

Which basically meant nothing, ever.

He was dying to know if that suit was making up for anything. _ It was not; Wade_ thought appreciatively as Peter complied with his nonverbal request and slipped the shirt over his head. _ Spidey very much does have all the muscles his suit shows. _

He let one hand trace Peter’s torso again, with no cloth barring his touch this time. He had done this hundreds of times after patrols- an instinct to protect no matter what. People knew that if anyone could control Deadpool, it _was _ Spider-Man. But no one knew the full truth. 

Wade would gladly light the world on fire and personally walk every single person into the flames if they ever hurt his little Spider. 

“Okay,” Peter huffed, “not saying it's not sweet that you care so much, but can we leave the murdery death shit _ out of the bedroom, _maybe?”

_ Shit, didn’t mean to say that part out loud. _Wade smiled blithely and leaned in to bite Peter’s neck. “Sure thing, Pumpkin.” 

Peter grabbed the back of Wade’s head as he kept biting and sucking on that spot, leaning back to watch it heal before diving in again. Peter was already starting to rock against him, and Wade re-evaluated his assessment of the suit because _that _was definitely not obvious before. 

Wade slid his hands down Peter’s back and grabbed his ass, and for the first time, he wasn’t swatted away. Peter let out a groan and pressed Wade down onto his back, moving him around until Wade was where Peter wanted him. 

“Okay, manhandling, definitely a yes.” 

Peter chuckled and pressed on Wade’s shoulders before leaning down to kiss him, grinding their hips together, the thin pants barely dulling the sensation. Wade grabbed his waist and dug his fingers in, smiling as Peter reacted with a harder thrust and a moan against his lips.

Peter pulled back and tugged at Wade’s stolen briefs, tossing them over his shoulder. He waited for Wade to look up at him before slipping off his pants. Wade let out a small whine, and Peter dropped his briefs too, climbing back over Wade and pressing him down again. Wade tried to thrust against him, but Peter pressed down harder and stopped him, leaning into a kiss. 

“Behave, Wade.” 

“I _ am _behaving. Best behavior. Like a Boy Scout.” 

Peter laughed at that, then started to grind again when he found sensitive spots on Wade between the scars, dragging his lips until Wade would twitch and shudder under him. Wade had one hand on Peter’s wrist, the other buried in his hair, tugging as Peter nipped at him. 

Peter leaned over and slid open the nightstand drawer, barely keeping it from pulling out in his haste. He snagged the lube and slammed it shut. 

“Uh,” Wade made a face, “It’ll be sweeter if you wrap your peter?”

“Once again, I’ll say it. _ I hate you.” _

“No, but really, you don’t want a condom, Petey?”

“We’ve literally bled into each other's open wounds after fights. _ Multiple times. _ I’m pretty sure we’ve already fucked each other over if anything’s wrong.”

Wade laughed.

“But I do have some if you want-” Peter went to open the drawer again.

“Nope. No, I’m good, just. Most people look at this and think _ walking STD _ because I kinda look like a giant-”

Peter slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t need the mental image.” 

Wade nodded and picked up the lube to wiggle at Peter. Peter narrowed his eyes but grabbed it and let go of Wade’s mouth. He coated his fingers in lube and pulled Wade’s leg over his hip with the dry hand. 

Peter enjoyed gently rubbing Wade’s leg and ignoring his wiggling attempts to get Peter to hit his prostate. Wade might be a bit bigger than him, but Peter was definitely strong enough to stop the attempts without much effort. 

Wade kept whining at the lack of stimulation, but Peter needed the merc to last for his new plans for the night- now that Wade wasn’t just wet dream material, he was going to enjoy it.

He leaned over and bit Wade’s nipple, grinning at the moan it caused.

“Please. Just. I’m ready!” 

Peter laughed but moved over Wade, wiping the extra lube on his own cock and lining himself up. Once he started to sink in, he let his hand drag slowly up from Wade’s rim all the way over his balls and cock, barely touching. 

“Now, I usually have to get off _at least _twice when I’m all worked up. Think you can be good and last or do I have to avoid-”

Wade took a deep breath to focus. “I can last.” 

Peter leaned down and kissed him, rolling his hips. “Okay, good. Because after _ this,” _ he thrust as his bit Wade’s earlobe, “I am going to ride you.” 

“Jesus fuck, Baby Boy, I am not gonna last if you talk like that.” 

Peter pulled up a little. “If you don’t, then I’ll just have to use my toys…” 

Wade groaned but shifted a bit and started to run his hands over Peter again. Each time Peter rolled his hips just right, Wade would dig his nails in. Peter’s torso was covered in scratches and crescent-shaped marks that faded quickly as he healed. 

Peter shifted as he felt his orgasm coming, holding Wade close as he rocked in and out. He bit Wade’s neck as he finished, hoping his claim would show at least a little. He knew Wade healed quicker than he did.

Peter took a few deep breaths after the last of his orgasm passed, sliding out and watching as Wade tried not to whine. 

“Okay. Now I _ really _ need you to be a good boy.” 

Wade went to ask but was cut off by Peter pressing a finger into him. 

“Wouldn’t want you to make a mess, hm?”

Peter grabbed a small plug from the drawer and held it up, and Wade groaned and nodded. He slid it in with little resistance, pressing against the base a few times until Wade’s reaction showed it was hitting him at the right spot. 

“I’m rather impatient, so my plan now is for you to lay there and let me stretch myself on your cock.”

_ “Baby-” _ Wade choked out.

Peter hummed, coating Wade’s cock in lube and straddling his hips. “Now, remember. _ Sit still _ because you don’t wanna hurt me.” 

Wade dug his fingers into Peter’s thighs. They both knew that even if Wade messed up, Peter would heal quickly enough for it not to be a significant problem, but the threat of hurting him at all had Wade tensed. Peter lined up with Wade and pressed back at his own pace, pausing to appreciate the feeling once the head of Wade’s cock was inside of him. Wade was mumbling something. “Wade?”

“Mmhmm?”

“What are you saying?”

“I am the very model of a modern Major-General.”

Peter looked up to the ceiling and considered, hopefully for the last time, injuring Wade.

“Y’know… I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical,” Wade sing-songed.

Peter sighed. “Yes, Wade, I’m aware of the song.”

“Oh. You seemed confused.”

“I am,” Peter grumbled.

“About what?”

Peter pressed his body down, clenching his muscles a bit- just enough that it would draw Wade’s attention, but not enough to hurt. “How _ that _ is on your mind when I’m _ trying _ to do _ this.” _

Wade grinned, gently rocking in and out of Peter. “Baby Boy, if I don’t distract myself, I won’t even be all the way _in _before this is done… So… I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's.” 

Peter took a couple deep breaths. “I hate you.” 

“But you’re still gonna date me.”

“That was not agreed on yet.” 

Wade pouted. “But, you said if this went well. I’m making sure it, well, _ goes well!” _

“You are the worst boyfriend, ever.” 

Wade laughed and gently rubbed Peter’s thighs, letting his nails drag on the skin. Peter shuddered and relaxed a bit more, making it almost halfway this time. Wade was back to muttering that asinine song, so Peter could take his time enjoying the stretch. 

When Peter finally rested on Wade’s hips, he leaned forward and kissed Wade, letting his hips slide forward and back a few times. 

“Baby Boy, I am warning you right now, I _ will not last.” _

Peter laughed and sat back, guiding Wade’s hand to his cock. “Then earn it.” 

Wade quickly started stroking Peter, going between the song and swearing at the sensations of Peter wrapped around him. 

“Use both hands... just touch me, I’m close.” 

Wade followed his direction, guiding his other had over Peter’s torso, pressing into the remaining scratches before cupping him and speeding up his strokes. Peter groaned and came all over Wade’s chest. Wade followed quickly after, pressing Peter further into his lap and grinding up into him as Peter let a lazy smile cross his face. Peter allowed himself to relax against Wade’s thighs, enjoying the intimacy of the connection in their afterglow. 

“Baby Boy, you look fucking amazing.” 

Once Peter finally gave up on keeping Wade in him, he rolled over to the side of the bed, blindly grabbing something from the floor and wiped them both off before collapsing onto the bed, pulling Wade close to using him as a pillow. “I guess this will work, shithead.”

Wade hummed. “Can I put my kinks near you now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Peter is responsible and goes and properly disposes of the bread pan when he wakes up for the day (the raccoons did not eat it, nor did the rats- they have standards).  
When Peter reads the text messages, he does consider throwing Wade's phone at him (to avoid the replacement cost of throwing his _own phone_), but Wade talks him out of being mad with kisses and a minor adjustment to "Sarah, The Simple Chef"'s website. 
> 
> Also, Wade lets Peter decide who publically dates the Merc with a Mouth.


End file.
